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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606487">The Cellist in Black</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/extra_Mt/pseuds/extra_Mt'>extra_Mt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gentleman Jack (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballet, Cellist, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Inspired by Music, Teasing, What The Fuck Are Tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:35:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/extra_Mt/pseuds/extra_Mt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ann Walker goes to a concert and becomes acquainted with Anne Lister, a world-renowned cellist.<br/>1st chapter is fluff. 2nd is smut.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my love letter to this musical piece I’ve been obsessed with. Imagine Anne playing the cello and try to keep calm :) https://youtu.be/fm208v99_vM</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were late, and Ann wished she was in her hotel room. </p><p>It was all the fault of Eliza, who could not decide which brooch to wear to tonight’s orchestra concert. A flower brooch or a butterfly one. Ann and William chose the latter with feigned enthusiasm, for the sake of putting an end to her endless rumination, and her cousin-in-law still insisted on dilly-dallying. </p><p>“We have to look our best for this concert,” was Eliza’s justification. “I promise, Ann, it will be a life-changing experience for you. You don’t want me to look ragged when that happens, do you?”</p><p>It was hard to imagine a concert could have such effect on Ann. Eliza knew she had no musical bone in her body. Besides, Ann did not want her life to change. She was leaving London in two days. Change was the last thing she wanted now. But she kept her mouth shut, aware of the meaninglessness of trying to refute a woman like Eliza.</p><p>They missed their bus and ended up taking the subway. </p><p>Two minutes before the concert was scheduled to begin, they arrived at Royal Festival Hall on the banks of the River Thames. The air of the hall was vibrating with anticipation. Ann observed, as she followed her cousins to the front row, that the audience largely consisted of young women. She hadn’t gone to enough orchestra concerts to know if it was a common occurrence. </p><p>“This is exciting. Look at that cello,” Eliza said, gesturing to the cello and guitar that sat at the front of the stage, away from the herd of the chairs behind it. “Remind me to introduce you to them at the after-party.”</p><p>“Who? What party?”</p><p>“I thought I had told you,” Eliza said. “This is the opening day of their world tour. They will have a small party after this. Here, take a look.” She gave Ann a four-fold leaflet.</p><p>God knows how many times Eliza had taken it in and out of her bag, because it now had thick, white fold lines in the shape of a cross. There were two men on the front side. One with a cello and the other with a guitar. Lister and Washington. </p><p>Instantly it became clear to Ann why there were so many women in the audience. These two musicians were objectively attractive, even Ann could tell. One does not have to feel sexual attraction to tell when a person is pleasing to the eye. She suspected that the majority of the female audience had come for the cellist, who had brown eyes that held a certain kind of arrogance. Some women find men like that irresistible. Ann did not get it. At all.</p><p>Without bothering to look at the other side of the leaflet, Ann returned it to Eliza. The lights began to fade out at the same time. The chattering of the audience followed suit, as though they had been running on light-activated batteries until now. </p><p>A hash quickly seized the entire hall. This was Ann’s favourite theatre moment. The silence. The collective acknowledgement of the death of the real world, and the thrill for the new life. Only, it was often behind the curtains that Ann experienced this moment. It felt disorienting to be hearing the silence from this side of the theatre. </p><p>Slowly the orchestra came on stage from both sides. The audience clapped their hands. And when most of them settled themselves in chairs, a man appeared from the left wing—Ann’s right—and the clapping grew zealous. He sat in the chair with the guitar. A moment later, from the right wing strode out the cellist, all clad in black. The audience had some type of an implosion at the appearance. The intensity of their clapping now had madness in it, and Ann swore some women were emitting ultrasonic screams that human ears could not detect. </p><p>But Ann was no longer an outside observer at this point. With every step the cellist took towards the centre of the stage, closer to Ann’s seat, she found it harder and harder to take her eyes off this person. </p><p>They had a soft gait that Ann had not expected from the picture on the leaflet. They were broad-shouldered, but had a rather thin neck. As they sat down and spread their legs to hug the cello, Ann saw the gentle curves of their breasts under the black waistcoat. Whatever their gender identity was, they were not a cis man as Ann had thought at first. </p><p>The feverish excitement of the female audience made perfect sense to her now.</p><p>Eliza leaned to the side and whispered in her ear, “Isn’t she handsome? That’s Ms. Lister.”</p><p>…</p><p>What a stage presence Ms. Lister had, indeed. She was a monster. Her glow overshadowed everyone else onstage, while never failing to complement other instruments when needed. She rocked the cello as though she was in a passionate slow dance with it. There was unmistakable sensuality in the way her slender fingers pressed strings and did vibrato. Ann felt herself blush at the sight.</p><p>The heat of stage lighting even reached the front seats. Ann knew how hot it could be just to stand still in these lights. Every time they finished playing a piece, Ms. Lister would wipe her face with a towel. After the third piece, she draped her suit jacket over the back of the chair. After the fourth, she rolled up her sleeves. And after the sixth, she undid a couple of top buttons on her shirt, revealing her sweaty collarbones.  </p><p>Ann watched and listened in a trance. Even then, her senses remained sharp. Sharper perhaps. She couldn’t afford to miss a single detail of this scene. Time slipped by. Ann couldn’t recall how many pieces they had played, couldn’t allow herself time to look at the brochure to find out how many were left. </p><p>Ms. Lister blew out a breath and wiped her face. She picked up the bow, made eye contact with the guitarist, and began to play the next piece. The two of them were the only one playing. Everyone else sat behind them with their instruments lowered. Even the conductor had walked off. </p><p>It was an emotional melody. The stage seemed to have turned into a different world altogether. As though the entire hall had travelled back to the past they all shared. Ann could feel the blinding glow of Ms. Lister dimming—on purpose, no doubt—and instinct told her this was the last piece of the concert programme. She didn’t want it to end. Her heart ached with nostalgia for the moment that had yet to come. </p><p>Then, there was a break for the cello.</p><p>Ms. Lister lowered the bow and pushed her dishevelled hair back with the other hand. As her face slightly turned in a sensual twist of her neck, her eyes found Ann over the celestial border between the stage and the audience seats. Ann felt her heart skip a beat. She was rendered deaf. Her vision was impaired, only able to see Ms. Lister, while the rest became a blur. Beads of sweat on her skin twinkled in the lighting, too bright for Ann to bare. And a smile crept across the lips of Ms. Lister, before she turned her face away and back to her guitarist. The hand that had run through the drenched hair returned to perch on the strings. The cello’s part started again.</p><p>It must have been only a couple of seconds. Just long enough to take a breath. But to Ann, it felt like she had woken up from a night-long dream, stupefied and thunderstruck. </p><p>Had Ann hallucinated momentarily? Was that a wicked trick her brain was playing on her? The eye contact. The smile. Had there even a break for the cello in the first place? Ann squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed, tugging a sense of reality back through the darkness, and returned her gaze to the stage. Ms. Lister’s hair looked as dishevelled as before. </p><p>…</p><p>The after-party was held in the bar of the hotel the orchestra was staying. Ann and her cousins had arrived early, and the orchestra members were not there yet. But the venue was not empty. There were plenty of people for Eliza to greet and have a chitchat with. Composers, producers, critics, and other types of important figures of the music industry. They all paid respect to Eliza in a non-sarcastic way. </p><p>It never failed to amaze Ann that Eliza was considered a person of influence by her peers. It was true that she was one of the Britain’s most famous pianists. But to Ann, no matter how many people flocked around her and waited their turn to talk to her, Eliza was still no more than a woman who could not choose a brooch to save her life.</p><p>Eliza introduced Ann to to every single one of them, although it was obvious nobody but her cared about that. “This is my cousin, Ann. She’s the sister of Elizabeth.”</p><p>Wherever she went, she was always “Elizabeth Sutherland’s sister.” And the surprised reaction of the other person, as if it had never occurred to them that Elizabeth could possibly have a sister, bored Ann to no end. </p><p>Thankfully, nobody bothered to say more than a few polite words to her or demanded more than a polite smile from her. Invisibility was a gift Ann had utilised abundantly since childhood. </p><p>Seated next to Eliza on a C-shaped sofa, she thought about what to say to Ms. Lister, if she ever got the chance to do so. It had to be short and quick. It had to be something a regular person would say. Something that wouldn't give away what an utter weirdo she was.</p><p>In that moment, there came the sound of a big group of people, chattering and laughing as they walked in. Ann immediately found Ms. Lister among the orchestra members. In fact, everyone seemed to find it the most natural thing to do, to have her magnetising their attention away from any conversation. The bar's atmosphere transformed itself in a blink, like that of the stage earlier.</p><p>Ms. Lister came at the tail of the group. She stopped at the entrance, looked around the venue with ease as though oblivious to her effect on people, and like everybody else, made a beeline for Eliza. They all stood up. </p><p>“Eliza, so good of you to come. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long.” Her voice sounded deep but clear, just like the cello, Ann thought. </p><p>“You know I’d go to the other side of the world just to see you,” Eliza said as they shook hands. She looked around. “Where’s Mr. Washington?”</p><p>“Ah, that old man. He has to go to bed at nine no matter what.”</p><p>“That’s a shame.”</p><p>“He gave his warm regards to you.”</p><p>Eliza put her hand on Ann’s upper back and gently gave her a push forward. “Anne, I want you to meet my cousin.” </p><p>Then, time froze when Ms. Lister whipped around to face Ann. “Hello.” This single word had enough power to bring Ann to her knees.</p><p>Their hands found each other for a handshake, gentle on Ms. Lister's part and tentative on Ann's. </p><p>She ran her eyes over Ann, sizing her up in a playful manner. “Let me guess. You’re the violinist cousin with Vienna Philharmonic— No. You’re the ballerina, aren’t you?”</p><p>Ann averted her eyes. Everything was happening so fast that her brain was on the cusp of being fried. It didn’t help the situation that someone who had never met her knew of her existence. That didn’t happen everyday.</p><p>Before Ann could find her voice, Eliza came between them. “That is right. She’s the only dancer in the family. Very good.”</p><p>Ms. Lister grinned at Eliza. “Well, you’ve told me about every single one of your family, down to the ponies on your farm. I know all of their names now.” She winked at Ann. “We share a name, I believe.”</p><p>Ann barely registered that Ms. Lister had not let go of her hand. She never really liked her own name. Until now. </p><p>Eliza sat down, and they all followed suit. Ms. Lister sat next to Ann with her legs crossed, her arms resting on the back of the sofa, with an air of confidence as though she had been there since the beginning. She and Eliza began talking about people Ann didn’t know. It gave her an opportunity to look at Ms. Lister without those dark brown eyes looking back into hers.</p><p>Ms. Lister seemed to have changed into a new shirt. Still a black button-up, but it looked dry and fresh from dry cleaning. The collar had no trace of sweat. Her short hair was dried and combed back neatly. Still, her halos of charisma seemed more vivid and felt more tangible, now that she was out of the artificial illumination of the spotlights. Ann had never met a person like her.</p><p>Ms. Lister turned her head to smile at Ann, then. “And, Ms. Walker, what did <em>you</em> think?”</p><p>For some moments, Ann stared at her face like a paralysed idiot. “About…?”</p><p>”The concert.”</p><p>“Oh. Yes.”</p><p>Ms. Lister gave an amused grin. “Yes what?”</p><p>Ann couldn’t remember the exact wording of her question anymore. “I liked it. I enjoyed it very much. The final piece. It was— I don’t know how to describe it. It felt like the cello was crying. The cello and the guitar were crying for each other.”</p><p>“Your grandfather wrote it,” Ms. Lister said, “before he passed.”</p><p>“Did he.” Her grandfather was another important figure in their world. A composer and pianist. It had been five years.</p><p>“Didn’t you know?” There was no malice in the tone of her voice.</p><p>“He knew from early on that I was not a musician. Not that they didn’t try to teach me, but I would get restless too easily. I wanted to be on the other side of music. We used to talk about many things, my grandfather and I. But we didn’t exactly understand each other’s language.”</p><p>“Then, I should be glad you’ve come tonight. He often told me about his granddaughters when he was composing it.”</p><p>And now, a vague memory of her grandfather came back to her. He had mentioned his protegee a few times and how singular they were. “That lass is out of the world. You two will get along for sure, if you are ever brave enough to befriend her,” he once said. There remained no doubt it was Ms. Lister he was talking about. </p><p>“I want to make sure something,” Ann said. “But I’m worried it might offend you.”</p><p>“It’s alright. Go on.”</p><p>“What are your pronouns, if you don’t mind telling me?”</p><p>“Ah.” Ms. Lister chuckled and took a sip of her drink. “Yes, I do get asked that a lot.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I know people call you Ms., but…”</p><p>“No need to apologise.” Ms. Lister slipped her hand into Ann’s and squeezed. “Being considerate and respectful is nothing to be ashamed of. I do like wearing men’s clothes and men’s cologne. That’s a fact. It’s she/her. Thank you for asking.”</p><p>The warmth of her hand, cold on the surface because of her glass of alcohol, made Ann want to cry for some reasons. She felt very unworthy of Ms. Lister’s attention.  </p><p>“Do I get to ask what yours are?” Ms. Lister said.</p><p>And just like this, like magic, all the tension in her shoulders thawed away. “The same as yours.”</p><p>“Very well. My turn to ask a question.” Ms. Lister tilted her head, leaning on the back of the sofa, and searched Ann’s face as though the most desired secret could be found there. “Are you not based in another country? Where was it? I can’t seem to remember.” She showed no sign of letting go of Ann’s hand.</p><p>“Milan, Italy. I’m on holiday. I have to return the day after tomorrow.”</p><p>“A beautiful city. Passionate people. Do you like it there?”</p><p>Ann nodded. “I have many friends. I’ve lived there since I was twenty-two. It’s my second home.”</p><p>“I’d like to see you dance one day.”</p><p>Ann’s impulse was to let a laughter escape, out of nervousness. But she ducked her head in a modest manner and hid her face instead. What Ms. Lister had said was a perfectly normal thing, but it sounded like such a scandalous proposition. And the worst (read: best) thing was that Ann couldn’t decide if all of it was coming from her imagination. </p><p>Eliza soon jumped into the conversation and stole Ms. Lister from her. And soon afterwards, some people came to greet Eliza, and Ms. Lister had to leave to talk to other people as well. Ann remained in her seat, watching bubbles rise to the surface of her lukewarm champagne in silence, alone. She missed Ms. Lister already. It felt as though she’d been gone for hours. It was not loneliness that blew through her heart, though. Not exactly. It felt more like the temporary delirium you feel the moment light abandons you and leaves you in complete darkness.</p><p>Would she ever come back? The more Ann asked herself this question, the less possible it seemed. She looked around the room and quickly found Ms. Lister near the bar chatting comfortably with a beautiful woman. </p><p>Forget about it. Ms. Lister must’ve have gotten too weirded out to keep Ann company. Ann should’ve kept it short and simple like she had planned.</p><p>It no longer seemed worthwhile to stay. She should tell Eliza that she felt tired and needed to go back to her hotel. It wouldn’t be a lie. She really felt exhausted. Return to her hotel room, have a relaxing bath, spend a whole day tomorrow by herself, and leave behind tonight’s sweet memory in London the day after tomorrow. </p><p>She looked up to address Eliza— </p><p>“Do you want to dance?” a sultry voice said right next to her ear from behind. </p><p>Ann almost hurt her neck by twisting it at the maximum velocity. Her lukewarm drink spilled out over her dress a little bit. Ms. Lister gave a knowing smirk, bracing her forearms on the back of the sofa.</p><p>With her heart in her mouth, Ann could only stare at her lips. “Uh, dance? With who?”</p><p>“With me. But not here.” Ms. Lister nodded to the French windows that led to the terrace. “I don’t want people to see me dance. I’d like not to ruin their perfect image of me,” she said with a wink.</p><p>They stepped out onto the deserted terrace without a word. Ms. Lister went close to the corner, where walls stood between them and the people inside. Music leaked from the bar in droplets of melody. She turned around and, bobbing her head ever so slightly to the music, extended her hand towards Ann. </p><p>"Is this okay?" Ms. Lister said.</p><p>Ann took her hand as she nodded. The moment their hands connected, Ms. Lister reeled her in and wrapped the other arm around Ann’s waist. Only a small gap remained between their faces. The intensity of Ms. Lister’s gaze radiated heat, and Ann had no choice but to avert her eyes. </p><p>But shifting her attention downwards, she accidentally looked down Ms. Lister’s partially unbuttoned shirt. Her head snapped to the side, eyes boring a hole in the wall. Ms. Lister’s obsession with black clothing apparently extended to underwear. The forbidden knowledge got her brain sizzling. </p><p>Ms. Lister swayed their bodies together, but not to the music. It felt more like the way one soothes a newborn baby. </p><p>Ann wished this moment would last forever. But the little voice in her head told her not to be ridiculous. It would come to an end, and it would be a mere speck of memory for Ms. Lister, while Ann would possibly carry it in her heart for the next few years.  </p><p>"Teach me how to dance," Ms. Lister said, still swaying their bodies, still with her arm around Ann’s waist. "I really have zero talent for dancing. It's an embarrassment."</p><p>"It’s hard to imagine.”</p><p>Ms. Lister gave a curious smile. “Why?”</p><p>“Aren't you one of the world's best musicians?"</p><p>“Are you talking about my sense of rhythm?” </p><p>Ann nodded.</p><p>“Oh, this is very different. Dancers are athletes. Musicians aren't."</p><p>The earlier scene of Ms. Lister onstage flashed across Ann’s mind. So much sweat that sometimes Ann could see the beads of it flying from the tips of her hair when she swung her head. It looked quite athletic to Ann, but she was no expert. </p><p>"Perhaps, think of me as your cello?" That sounded so obscene in Ann’s own ears. So suggestive. She became hyper-aware of Ms. Lister’s fingers—the same fingers that pressed those strings—on her body.</p><p>“My cello?”</p><p>“I meant— You looked so natural onstage, and you looked like you were dancing with the cello. So, I thought—” Ann shook her head. “Never mind." She then put her left hand on Ms. Lister’s shoulder blade and re-connected her other hand with Ms. Lister’s. "Just follow me."</p><p>Her heart drumming in a quick tempo, Ann concentrated on the external, slow beat of the bar music. They began to move. No longer soothing a crying baby, but dancing. When Ann moved her right leg forward, Ms. Lister moved her left leg backward the same length. When Ann gave her a gentle push on Ms. Lister’s shoulder, they twirled. </p><p>Ms. Lister tried to look down at their feet.</p><p>“Face up," Ann said. “Try to keep your head and upper body still.”</p><p>Straightening her neck, Ms. Lister broke out into a huge grin. It stayed there as they twirled again. Dimples emerged on her cheeks. She giggled. The sharpness of her white teeth gave her an innocent appearance.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Ann said.</p><p>“Oh, nobody has ever led me in anything before, that is all."</p><p>If it hadn't been for the giggle, Ann would've readily let her uncertainty freeze her body. She gave a playful smile. "I thought you wanted me to teach."</p><p>"I did. But I mean, look at me.” Ms. Lister continued to grin as she made a general gesture at herself. “When you look masculine of centre, most women automatically assume you are the one to lead, always. Dates, driving, conversations… dancing. This is nice. I like it. I like it a <em> lot</em>, actually.”</p><p>The giddy tone of her voice made Ann momentarily forget her steps. Their toes collided. Disoriented, Ann hastened to offer a mumble of an apology. </p><p>“Don’t get me wrong,” Ms. Lister said. “I love leading and being dominant. But people don’t ask me if I’d like to be led. They assume I would say no.”</p><p>“Would you like to be led?” Ann asked instinctively.</p><p>The child-like smile on Ms. Lister’s face gained more subtlety, as though she knew Ann’s secrets. “I’d like to be spoilt now and again. It’s about having the option.”</p><p>Their toes collided again. Ann said sorry, but her mind was now filled with inappropriate thoughts. “Yes… Options are nice.” </p><p>“They are, aren’t they?” They took another twirl. Ms. Lister said, “Which do you like, spoiling your person or being spoilt?”  </p><p>Ann heard herself let out a nervous-giggle. It occurred to her that Ms. Lister had simply asked back the question for the sake of it, like she had done with the gender identity question. But at this point, even Ann couldn’t continue to ignore the sly curve of Ms. Lister’s lips and the mischievous glint in her eyes. </p><p>When she opened her mouth to answer, though, Eliza came out onto the terrace and called out to Ms. Lister. Ann instinctively hid in the shadow of the wall. She listened, with sweaty palms, as Eliza asked if Ms. Lister knew where her cousin had gone.</p><p>“No, I have not seen her,” Ms. Lister said. “Actually, she told me she was going home.”</p><p>“Home? Do you mean the hotel?”</p><p>“Yes, the hotel. She must’ve been quite knackered.”</p><p>Then, after Eliza had left, Ms. Lister came back to Ann by the wall. They might resume the dance, Ann expected. But the look on Ms. Lister’s face seemed to have grown serious, and the same hand that had been on Ann’s shoulder rose to touch her face. Brushing her jawline with her thumb first, and then the whole palm cupping her cheek.</p><p>“Would you like to come to my room?” Ms. Lister said. “Or, if you’d like to go back to your hotel, I would walk you there and ask for nothing in return.”</p><p>Ann struggled, but managed to say, “Yes.”</p><p>“Yes to what?”</p><p>“Take me to your room.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>SMUT.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lift only had to go one storey down. Ms. Lister led her to her suite thrice the size of the hotel room Ann was staying in. </p><p>After the concert and the bar, the silence put pressure on her eardrums. The carpeted floor almost swallowed the bottom half of her flat shoes, making her wobble. It felt like being on a ship. Ann slowly went to a huge window that faced the door. The curtains were open, and the indigo city below twinkled back at her.</p><p>Ms. Lister came to stand next to her. “I told them I didn’t need a suite, but they insisted.” She gave a little reserved smile. </p><p>But when Ann glanced out the window again, the reflection of Ms. Lister that was looking at her had none of the reservation left in her. Slowly, Ann turned around to face her. She cupped Ms. Lister’s cheek and felt in her hand a fraction of the weight of what she was about to do.</p><p>Ms. Lister’s lips felt softer than she had expected. And unlike any imaginative lips, they were warm. And electric. She could easily get drown in the sensation. But with what was left of her logic ability, she fumbled with the front of Ms. Lister’s shirt, trying to keep her head above water. There was only a couple of buttons left undone.</p><p>Ms. Lister chuckled. “Aren’t you eager?”</p><p>That got Ann to snap back into reality. She pulled away from her lips, careful to keep her insecurity from Ms. Lister’s observant eye. “I thought— Wouldn’t you like to be spoilt?”</p><p>“Ah,” Ms. Lister said, and a smirk crept across her lips. “Yes, I would. After I touched you.”</p><p>She took Ann to the king-size bed, unzipped her dress, and gently, with a hand on the back of Ann’s head, laid her down. Ann watched as Ms. Lister straddled her hips, undoing the remaining two buttons on her shirt and taking it off. Her bra seemed even more black against the paleness of her skin.  </p><p>“I saw you looking down my shirt earlier.” Ms. Lister smirked and brought her mouth next to Ann’s ear to plant a kiss.  </p><p>Words failed Ann. All she could do was to remember to breathe and feel. Feel her fingers. First undoing Ann’s bra, and then sliding across her body. In ecstasy, Ann saw, behind her closed eyelids, the holy image of Ms. Lister onstage, rocking the cello in a passionate embrace. She opened her eyes and looked down at Ms. Lister’s hand on her rib cage. And her body was set aflame by the little voice inside her head saying, “You’re her cello now.”</p><p>As though her secret thought leaked, Ms. Lister gave a knowing look. “You like looking at my hands,” she said it as a fact, not as a question.</p><p>Heat spread to deeper parts of Ann, who stammered and struggled to come up with a comeback. “I don’t think there’s anyone who isn’t fascinated by them. Your fingers are… They are…” But logic evaporated when those fingers snaked along the inside of her thigh.</p><p>“Long,” Ms. Lister said, sinking her teeth into Ann’s neck. “And dextrous.”</p><p>“Ms. Lister—”</p><p>The quiet ripples of her chuckle travelled through Ann’s bones and nerves. “I love that you call me that. It makes me feel like I’m punishing you for something, <em> Ms. Walker.</em>”</p><p>She moved to kiss down Ann’s body, from her waist to her hip bones to her legs to her toes. The sensation of her lips against her sensitive skin, as well as the mere sight of Ms. Lister on top of her, paralysed her. It was almost enough to send her over the edge, until Ms. Lister nibbled at her ankle placed over her stout shoulder. A stinging pain shot through her leg.</p><p>Ann hissed.  </p><p>Ms. Lister immediately put her leg down and drew back. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? I didn’t think I bit that hard.”</p><p>Ann couldn’t help but smile at the panicked look on Ms. Lister’s face. The cellist no longer appeared ethereal and unobtainable. She shook her head on the pillow. “It’s just that— It’s one of those occupational injuries. I thought it had healed.”</p><p>Ms. Lister frowned as she caressed the ankle. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It happens all the time, even to the most experienced dancers. It’s nothing.”</p><p>“Any places I should avoid?”</p><p>Ann shook her head again. </p><p>Their lips found each other. The caresses of Ms. Lister had grown gentler, still teasing however. Her warm tongue circled around Ann’s nipple, closing in at an excruciatingly slow speed. But when her lips enveloped her erect nipple at last, she sucked so hard Ann saw stars. </p><p>She wanted to scream, but only groans came out. The pleasure was too strong, but she wanted it more and more. After giving the other breast the same treatment, Ms. Lister’s hand slithered to the area between her legs.</p><p>“Tell me what you want,” Ms. Lister said, with her lips attached to her nipple.</p><p>At the same time, Ann felt a sharp touch on her core. Another touch came, firm and sharp, and made her legs tremble. It was her nail, not a finger, Ann realised. With the tip of her nail, Ms. Lister was scratching her hardened clit over the underwear. </p><p>“Tell me what you like,” Ms. Lister said again.</p><p>Ann squirmed. “Take them—” Another scratch made her quaver. “Take them off.”</p><p>“Take what off?”</p><p>Unable to articulate her frustration, Ann gathered the pillow case in her fist and groaned into it. Her hips jumped again. </p><p>Ms. Lister chuckled as her other hand flirted with the waistband of her underwear. Nonetheless, she showed Ann mercy and slid the ruined underwear down her legs. Ann let her body relax. That scratching was driving all the senses out of her. Like she was being shoved closer and closer to the edge instead of being guided to it.</p><p>“Not a fan of teasing, Ms. Walker?” </p><p>To her own surprise, that smug comment set fire to Ann’s boldness. She demanded her lips, wrapped her fingers around Ms. Lister’s left wrist, and slowly guided the fingers inside her. They both moaned into each other’s mouth when her fingers were buried to the knuckles.</p><p>Ann was so close, unable to stop herself from fluttering around the fingers. She flung her arms around Ms. Lister’s broad shoulders and held on to her tightly. Her own moans filled her ears, while the rest of her was full of Ms. Lister. Only after a few strokes of her fingers, Ann sank into the depths of pleasure. Falling and falling, only anchored to this realm by the tender whispering of Ms. Lister.</p><p>As her orgasm subsided, she stared at the ceiling of the suite. This was not a dream. This was real.  </p><p>Ms. Lister lay beside her with her youthful smile. “You’re forgetting to close your mouth, princess. You looked the same as when I saw you during the concert.”</p><p>Ann closed her mouth, but opened it right away. “It wasn’t my imagination, then…”</p><p>“That our eyes met? No. You know you can see the audience from the stage, even when you’re in the spotlight. I can see when someone is on their phone.” She smirked. “Or when someone is staring at me with lustful eyes.”</p><p>Looking at the smug glint in her brown eyes, Ann felt the urge to wipe it off with a kiss. So she lifted her body off the mattress, straddled her hips, and kissed her firmly. That did not quench her thirst. It fanned the flames, if anything, sending animalistic electricity through her body. </p><p>She kissed the base of her neck, her collarbones, the upper swell of her breasts. “Can I spoil you now?”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>“Can I mark you?”</p><p>“Anywhere you want, sugar.”</p><p>Ann nibbled at the side of her neck. Ms. Lister squirmed, so Ann pressed her into the bed by the shoulders.  </p><p>She had never acted this way in the bedroom before. Even when she was the one giving, it was always at the needy request of her partner. Submissiveness was her second nature, and until then, nothing had made her question it or consider challenging it. But there was something about Ms. Lister that stirred the latent dominance in her. Spirit to be daring. It intoxicated her.</p><p>Ann grabbed her boxers—black like the rest of her clothing—down her legs and situated herself between her lean legs. The black hair glistened with her arousal. Ann dipped the tip of her tongue into the slickness and, at the very first taste of her, lost herself in it.  </p><p>Ms. Lister’s moans began to permeate the room. Her hand came to rest on Ann’s head, threading her fingers into her hair, as she rubbed her core against Ann’s mouth. Ann felt shivers down her spine. The silent gesture made her feel as though she was still under Ms. Lister’s control. Her spell.</p><p>Ann wondered if Ms. Lister would like her fingers inside. But perhaps if she did, she would tell Ann, and her silence might mean there was no desire for it. Then again, Ann remembered what Ms. Lister had said. </p><p><em> It’s about having the option</em>.</p><p>"Do you want me inside you?" Ann said, slightly gasping for air.</p><p>Ms. Lister arched her back. "Good Lord, yes," her voice sounded hoarse with desperation.</p><p>"How many?"</p><p>"Two." </p><p>Her core welcomed Ann's middle finger easily, so much it almost felt like it was swallowing it. Ann moved it in and out. It made an obscene wet sounds as her finger became coated with her juice that seemed to well up endlessly. And shortly after, she added the second finger and reattached her mouth to the smooth skin above the opening, hidden under the glistening hair. Ms. Lister's legs shake on either side of her head. Ann wrapped her free arm around her thigh to keep her still.</p><p>Without giving her tongue a rest, she looked up through her eyelashes. The sight of her defined six-packs greeted her. Every time Ms. Lister thrusted her hips up, her abs undulated like ocean waves. What a mesmerising sight that was. Her carnal urge monetarily gave way.</p><p>Then, her eyes locked with Ms. Lister's, who gave a provocative smirk with a hint of her sharp teeth.</p><p>"Like what you see?" she said. With her fingers threaded in Ann's hair, she then silently commanded her mouth back to work. "I can show you something even better if you stop teasing me like that."</p><p>Ann felt her eyes roll back in her head as her own core clenched and clit throbbed. She sped up her fingers, adding more pressure in the beckoning motion, and soon felt Ms. Lister's legs tremble. </p><p>"Ugh… Oh, fuck…" </p><p><em> Almost</em>, Ann knew, feeling her inner walls flutter around her fingers.</p><p>But the next moment, something came splashing in her face. Surprised, Ann pulled back just in time to see a clear liquid gushing out of where her fingers were still buried, again and again, pooling in her palm. Ann had never slept with anyone who squirted. </p><p>With an impatient whine, Ms. Lister pressed herself to her mouth and rocked her hips. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."</p><p>Ann never stopped her tongue and fingers again until the body above her tensed up. The air froze, their voices suspended in it, and only a couple of the faintest sighs of content rose to the ceiling.</p><p>Ann crept back up her body and kissed her on the lips. "Do you always do that?"</p><p>"Not always. Only when it’s <em> good</em>.” Ms. Lister wore a blissful smile as she stroked Ann’s cheek with her thumb. </p><p>They lay there in comfortable silence. Ann let her finger trace over the mark on Ms. Lister’s neck and felt a stirring of pride. Only an hour ago, she had been feeling insecure and contemplating leaving the party on her own. If Ms. Lister hadn’t come to her then, Ann would’ve been in her hotel room by now, throwing herself a pity party with night cheese in the bathtub.</p><p>“It’s late,” Ms. Lister said. “Do you want to stay the night with me?”</p><p>Ann nodded.</p><p>Ms. Lister pushed both of their bodies up and made Ann roll over to the other side of the bed. "Let's sleep on this side. It's going to get cold and uncomfortable under my arse." She gestured at the wet patch on the mattress. </p><p>"Thank your team for the big bed." Ann giggled. </p><p>As night deepened, they talked about the concert and ballet. Bit by bit, often interrupted by comfortable silence.</p><p>Ms. Lister produced a yawn and laced their fingers together in the space between their faces. Ann wished with an aching heart that she could fall asleep like this every night, next to a woman who could make her feel seen and cherished and desired. And how she wished it could be Ms. Lister. </p><p>She tried to memorise every detail of this moment so that, when she felt lost in the future, she could remember how this felt. The way Ms. Lister’s dark hair fell in her face, the way she shut her eyes tight when she yawned, the arches of her thin eyebrows, her deep laugh lines in her cheeks and crow’s feet, her long fingers…</p><p>Ann’s fingers felt the tips of Ms. Lister’s left fingers. The skin there, it caught her attention, felt harder than the rest of her skin.</p><p>“Calluses,” Ms. Lister said. “Some string instrument players have them. Aren’t they sexy?”</p><p>Ann chuckled. “I don’t know. Do they hurt?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then, yes. They are sexy.” </p><p>Ms. Lister kissed her on the nose.</p><p>… </p><p>The room was still dark when Ann woke up to an empty bed. She rolled onto her back and saw a ray of sunshine coming in through between the thick curtains. It seemed like it was a sunny morning. </p><p>Eliza had texted her once—at exactly six o'clock in the morning as if she had been waiting until the appropriate time to text—to ask whether Ann had gone back to the hotel alright last night. She texted back to reassure her cousin-in-law and sat up. The blanket slid off her naked body without any resistance, and the memories of the previous night came back to her in a stream— </p><p>She lifted the blanket and searched for the wet patch on the bed sheet. It was no longer visible, but she could still feel the ghost of its dampness as her hand ran over the area. She had not dreamt about it. It had happened. Her ever first one-night stand. </p><p>But what was she to do now? Nobody had taught her how to have a walk of shame. Catherine once had told her about her one-night stand, where she found her bra on top of a cat tower the next morning. </p><p>Clothes. The next step was finding her clothes. </p><p>It proved quite easy. Her dress was hung up in front of the bed, while her shoes were neatly placed under the dress. On the stool by the wall was a neat pile of casual clothes—a button-up shirt, trousers, and a belt—with a note on top.</p><p><em> For you, Ms. W, in case you wish not to go back to your hotel in your dress. </em> Ann could see Ms. Lister’s confident personality in her handwriting.   </p><p>She put those clothes on and stood in front of the full-length mirror. The shirt must have been tailored for Ms. Lister, its sleeves almost covering all of Ann’s palms. And the trousers looked too long as well. She looked childish and pathetic. Ms. Lister could rock this outfit beyond the shadow of a doubt, without breaking a sweat. Ann, on the other hand, looked like a child trying on her father’s working clothes. Her hair was dishevelled, looking like a bird’s nest. In smudged makeup, her eyes looked swollen. It always happened when she slept without washing her makeup off. </p><p>What a shameful appearance. This must be part of the walk of shame. She wanted to crawl back into bed. In fact, now that the idea came to her, it did sound good. The clothes smeltd of Ms. Lister’s spicy cologne. A temptation coiled up in her underbelly, whispering and egging her on to lie in bed and reminisce about last night, wrapped in the lingering scent of their arousal. </p><p>But she walked out of the room barefooted when a noise came from the other room. At the table, however, stood a strange woman, popping grapes into her mouth. Their eyes met, and Ann felt mortified as though the person had caught her naked.</p><p>“Hello,” the woman said and brought another grape to her mouth. She turned her head towards the bathroom. “Anne, your lady is awake.”</p><p>Before the sentence had finished, Ms. Lister came out in her black clothes. She shot Ann a dazzling smile and kissed her on the cheek. “Ah, so you chose my clothes.”</p><p>Ann feigned nonchalance as she gave a nod. “I will have them dry-cleaned and return them to you.”</p><p>“You don’t need to. I mean, I’d like to have them back. Not going to lie, I’m desperately looking for an excuse to see you again.”</p><p>"Gross," the strange woman mumbled without looking at them.</p><p>Ms. Lister only quirked an eyebrow at it before turning back to Ann. “That's my sister, Marian. Don't worry. She’s not homophobic. She just hates me.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Gay rights. Thank you for defending my honour,” Ms. Marian said. </p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>Ms. Marian looked at Ann. “Listen, you seem nice. But if you just wanted a one-night stand, I would advise you to get the hell out of here right now. She might try to put a ring on you if you were too slow.”</p><p>“Take the food back to your room and leave us alone, will you?” Ms. Lister said. With her neck twisted, the lovebite Ann had left heaved into view, unconcealed.</p><p>Ann’s anxiety vanished in a flash. Her mind was beginning to conjure up ugly scenarios involving the strange woman in the room. But Ms. Lister’s sister… And they looked rather close.</p><p>Ms. Marian obeyed her sister’s instructions and loaded most of the room service onto a trolley, with which she exited the room. There were only a bowl of fruit and a sandwich left. </p><p>Ms. Lister made a gesture of resignation at the table. “Well, I was going to let you choose, but it seems like you don’t have many choices left, I'm afraid.”</p><p>Ann took a seat and ate with a happy smile. In this big city, where she felt like a guest, she had not expected to feel so at home.</p><p>Ms. Lister studied her with a soft air, somewhat absent-minded. “What are your plans for the day, Ann? This is your last day in London, isn’t it?”</p><p>Ann did not want to be reminded of it, but nodded. “I’m going back to Italy tomorrow morning. I’m not doing anything today, though. I was going to relax, without my cousins breathing down on my neck.”</p><p>“Would you like to spend it with me?</p><p>“Would you be okay with that?”</p><p>Ms. Lister grinned like a bashful child. “More than okay. I’d be delighted. But no pressure.”</p><p>“Nothing delights me more.”</p><p>After finishing breakfast, they moved back into the bedroom. Ann wanted to please her like last night, but Ms. Lister said she felt like being on offence. When they finally stepped out of the hotel for lunch, Ann had a dull ache in her lower back, an incredibly clear mind, and a heart swelled with joy. </p><p>She had wondered, on the day she lost her virginity to her classmate in college, if the world would look different. Everything had stayed the same back then. The loss of her virginity never seemed important enough to divide her life into two parts, ‘before’ and ‘after.’ But she allowed herself to entertain the thought that perhaps, if it had been with Ms. Lister, it might have been different.</p><p>She sat in the audience seat during the rehearsal in the afternoon. And it was such a blissful experience to see Ms. Lister like that, laughing with her musical partner and the conductor. Everybody respected and loved her, and Ann could clearly see it.</p><p>That mischievous face disappeared during the real concert that night. Ann got to watch the transformation from a second row seat, as a guest of the leading musician. Many times, Ms. Lister glanced her way and winked. Perhaps it was because of this secret between them, but the last piece—her grandfather’s parting gift to the world—sounded even more emotional. </p><p>It filled her heart with adoration. </p><p>She wished they had more time together. And it was evident Ms. Lister shared her sentiments. The next morning, she accompanied Ann to the airport. </p><p>“Wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”</p><p>Ann felt like a fairytale princess, having to leave before time ran out.</p><p>“Listen,” Ms. Lister said. “I know we’ve only spent one day and a half together, and we don’t know much about each other… But, I want to keep this thing going. I want to see you again.”</p><p>A firm nod was all Ann could give without breaking out in tears.  </p><p>Ms. Lister promised to see her in Milan in two months. The orchestra was going to tour around the U.K. first, and move to the States, to Asia and Australia, and come back to Europe. </p><p>“I can wait that long,” Ann said. “As long as I have reasons to hope.”</p><p>“You do.” Ms. Lister kissed the back of her hand. “Two months. I will prove to you I’m worth it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Have a good weekend, everybody. Stay safe :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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